Pyrrhic Victory
by Milarca
Summary: Edward's point of view from when Carlisle brought home a young girl; Rosalie. Is slightly dark but I wanted to expand on Rosalie's story of what happened, and I think Edward's pov does it justice.


**Edward's pov - 1933**

The early morning air was cold, yet not unpleasant, on my face as I walked a measured pace home. Not too fast, but I felt the strange urge to hurry, nonetheless. It was nearly five in the morning and I could hear dozens of minds sleeping or quietly getting ready for work. The house we owned at the moment was located just outside the city of Rochester, in a rich, new suburb, and despite the early hour, I had to be careful.

I was only a block away from the house when I heard the most agonized mental scream. She was burning. Living through that terrible suffering that could mean only one thing. The one thing that I had heard only once before and lived through before that...

The changing of a vampire.

I shook my head, trying to escape it, but the mind is not something I can tune out, though at times I desperately try. I was at the door in moments, not caring who would see, and Carlisle's thoughts jumped out at me, they were grieving, fraught with indecision, worry, and pain.

But why had he done it? I closed the door to the house and was instantly drawn to the girl, at her side in an instant; her mind was the loudest. I searched through Carlisle's mind as I stared at the girl's twisted face, but he was aware of my presence now and concentrating on my reaction. The girl's breathing was heavy, slow and ragged, her mind in turmoil; _the pain… it's too much, what is_ happening _to me?_

I didn't know this tortured mind well, but I knew it. I became familiar with it when Carlisle first brought home Esme… but that in no way meant that it was pleasant to go through again. I sneered, but it was a bitter thing. The mind of a changing vampire is no place to be.

While I stared at the blonde girl, her mind surrounded mine, holding it in the suspended fire which I myself had to go through once. I could tell it had only just started, though, less than six hours ago. She girl still had plenty of human blood in her, but it was boiling, the venom taking its toll. But _why? _I closed my eyes and ground my teeth. What _right _did he have?

The anger pushed me to my feet and I met Carlisle in the living room, his arms were slightly crossed as if holding himself together, but his eyes were hard.

"Carlisle, what-?!" but before I could say anything further, his memories were pushing themselves on me. Childishly, I tried to resist. Knowing though, that it would do no good, I relented and let the past few hours flood my mind with a quiet groan.

I watched grimly. The girl lay bleeding on the street… the pull of human blood. I winced. But the need to save her… running, with her, I just need to get her to the house, and then I'll…. he puts her on the dining table, his hands cling to his sides. What to do? Save her, as a human, but no. The damage was too extensive. Edward… he is so alone. What if, the girl… and then biting down, many places quickly. He held her head while gently puncturing the skin at her neck. The flow of venom into her system, it tastes sweet on his tongue. The blood is strong and he grits his teeth, but years of practice help repel any thought of thirst at this point. She cringes at first and then screams; it is loud and high-pitched. Carlisle flinches but he's done all that he can and takes a step back. Her face, even bruised and covered in blood, is beautiful when contorted in pain. She screams again. Carlisle backs out, eyes always on the girl. He is now in the front room. The memories are cut off and I look into his determined eyes.

He looks into mine. The pain of the girl stings and cuts at my mind. I feel the anger again. I hear her shriek from the room, then silence. Then I heard her choked voice and then a ragged 'please… please…' I searched through the burning and come up with a small tendril of though, she'd begged for hours for Carlisle to kill her. Had I done that? I shook the thought from my head, this was not right. This was…

I hear Esme come in; she's already in the other room. And then she's at Carlisle's side, looking from me to him. She reached out and rubs my shoulder; recognizing immediately what I'm feeling right now. But then she lets go, knowing that I don't want comfort. She always knows, it's instinctive. My expression softens at her gesture none the less.

"Carlisle, what happened?" Esme murmurs, holding his hand, which is limp at his side. He doesn't respond.

"What were you thinking, Carlisle?" I said. It was just a statement, human reflex, I knew as soon as I walked in the door, _why._But it just tore at me. "Rosalie Hale?" I felt the anger but it was subdued now, I could feel the benevolence of Carlisle's thoughts; the mantra repeating over and over in his head, _she was dying. I had to save her. It was the right thing to do. She was dying. I had to save her…_

I could tell that was partly for me.

"I couldn't just let her die," he says quietly. 'It was too much-' I saw her face in his head again; she was beautiful, and the life was slipping away by the second, the life draining from her. "Too horrible, too much waste."

"I know." I say. And I did, the evidence was right there. Carlisle had a very compassionate mind, and the strength of that I could hear even behind his jumbled thoughts of regret and half-formed lies. He was so desperately trying to convince himself of what he already knew. I half smiled.

"It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her," Carlisle repeated, again in an almost defeated whisper.

"Of course you couldn't." Esme said, closing her eyes and leaning against him, her hand held tightly in his. But even Esme's thoughts, she just accepted his judgment. Without even thinking…

"People die all the time." I said bitterly, "Don't you think she's just a _little_ recognizable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search-' The Kings… the name sent human pity and anger through me. Especially the son. Only a child, that boy was. He thought he could have the world, and I would know. The rare times I saw him it was through the glass of expensive nightclubs. He always had a bottle of the finest wine on hand; laughing like the idiot he was with the pack of friends that hung onto him like leeches, sucking him dry of the inherited riches that would surely be his downfall. Or the girl's… Rosalie. I thought her name with hard reluctance. "Not that anyone suspects the fiend," I said, and sighed heavily, letting a growl slip through my lips.

"We can handle that." Esme said. I knew along with her that we could move. We would have to move. Not that I cared much, there was nothing holding me down here. As soon as the girl was completely changed… "What are we going to do with her?" I was hoping she wouldn't want to stay with us. I could feel her mind and even through the fire I could sense her mind. Shallow, selfish. That kind of atmosphere would become annoying very quickly to me.

"That's up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way." Carlisle said, and I nodded. He knew I would make an effort, if only for him. If she wanted to stay I would be courteous of that choice. That didn't mean I had to like it though.

But Carlisle's attitude was slowly wearing on me; maybe it was me who left. Sooner or later, I might make that choice. But for now, I relaxed and tried not to let the girl's shrieks and begging get to me. It would all be over soon.

* * *

Note: a Pyrrhic victory is a victory or goal achieved at a great cost.

For another take on Rosalie's back story, here's a link to my friend's page: gonewiththevampire . deviantart . com (without the spaces) - She's written so many good fanfics it would be worth it to check it out. Especially if you want to know more about Rosalie :)


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